Tracks in sand
It can be that simple, I walk
in wet sand which the waves wash over
and the tracks disappear while I have moved
to another place. The sea moves cities,
major powers and epochs, we leave our tracks
which are erased. But innermost in the bay stands
a herd of cows from extraordinary times, yellow
in the evening light, and view me with calm gazes.
(After ‘Die gelbe Kuh’ by Franz Marc)
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